More Than I Bargained For
by A Puppet on a Lonely String
Summary: Scott attends a Yale reunion party thinking that it cannot turn out any worse than the last one. Unfortunately, things are never simple for the Tracy brothers - when things turn complicated for Scott he has to depend on his brothers to help sort the situation out, or the secrets of International Rescue will be exposed.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first attempt at doing a multi-chapter fic - the idea has been eating away at me for a while now so I thought I'd give actually writing it a try!**

 **It is primarily TV-verse, although I have intertwined the whole hologram idea from TAG.**

 **Once again, I'd appreciate any comments you guys may have - and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: All rights to International Rescue and the Thunderbirds belong to Gerry and Sylvia Anderson.**

* * *

Scott sighed forlornly as he watched Virgil and Tracy One leave the tarmac of the airfield and swoop into the evening sky, the plane's wings waggling slightly from side to side. Scott shook his head in amusement before turning and walking slowly in the direction of Langley House - that was Virgil wishing him luck. He would definitely need it. He hated school reunions; they were always so full of people plastering fake smiles on their faces, trying - and mostly failing - at remembering the name of the person they were talking to. Still, this one would have to go some distance to be any worse than the last one. It had been a meet-up of students in his high-school year - Scott had spent the entire evening attempting to get rid of a gaggle of limpets by the names of Yvette, Alice and... Elle? Had that been her name? The trio hadn't stopped batting their eyelids at Scott since the moment he had arrived, following him around wherever he went. They had been so unbelievably drunk by the end of it - the stench had been unbelievable - and Alice had ultimately wound up being sick all over him. Gordon hadn't let him live that one down for some considerable time afterwards. At least his year at Yale had consisted, mostly, of decent people, so this should be an improvement.

Scott pulled uncomfortably at the collar of his suit as he stopped next to the giant iron gates of Langley House. He, Virgil and Gordon had been called to a rescue in Australia earlier that day; a wildfire had been raging through the outback, sweeping across the entrance of a disused mine and trapping a group of trespassing youths underground. God it had been hot. He'd never known heat like that before. It had been a tricky one too - the mine had been unstable so they couldn't afford to weaken it any more than it already was. Still, they had managed to pull it off, and the Australian fire service had been able to contain the fire soon after. Scott did have time to shower to cool himself down and get rid of the soot before having to leave and make his way to the reunion, but he was still far too warm for comfort. At least there was a slight breeze here.

Set in a thirty acre estate in the rolling Litchfield Hills of Connecticut, not too far from Yale itself, Langley House had been owned by a former NASA officer convicted of fraud and blackmail seven months ago. No-one had stepped forward to buy it since it had been put on the market, so it had ended up being used as a venue for various social functions. There was something about the place that gave Scott the creeps - it looked like the kind of haunted house you'd get in a horror movie, the type where a group of people would arrive thinking it was paradise only to find it was anything but. He could just about see it at the end of the driveway, all off-white paint, towering pillars, pulled curtains and crawling ivy. To Scott's knowledge most of the house was empty and devoid of furniture, only the right wing and the hall used for parties and the like.

Pressing the intercom button next to the gate, it was a few seconds before Scott got an answer. "Hello?" The speaker was male, with a gruff-sounding voice that he didn't immediately recognise.

"Uh, hi," Scott began. "I'm here for the Yale reunion?"

"Name?"

"Scott Tracy."

A pause. "You're the last one to arrive." And with that, there was a beep and the gate swung open.

"'Good evening' to you too." muttered Scott, rolling his eyes and strolling down the driveway. The door of the house was ajar, the sound of talking leading him towards the hall. He smiled politely at the people he saw as he worked his way through the crowd, occasionally stopping to greet someone, shake their hand or kiss their cheek and ask about how they've been, what they've been doing... The usual stuff.

"Scott!"

Spinning on his heel, the first genuine smile of the evening spread across Scott's face as he eyed the blonde-haired man approaching him, who engulfed him in a bear hug and slapped jovially him on the back.

"Miles - how are you?" Miles Bellamy had been one of his closest friends at Yale, a chemical engineer famed during his school years for seemingly having a complete disregard of his own safety. So what if something was supposedly unstable? Let's put it together with something else and see what happens! Why not? What could possibly go wrong?

"I'm glad to say I'm good, man." Miles grinned lopsidedly, the pair making their way through the throng to the small bar set up in the corner of the hall. "I almost wasn't at one point."

"Yeah I heard," Scott said, making sure to keep his voice neutral. "Explosion, right?" That was more than a slight lie on his part; he'd done more than heard about it - he had _been_ there, and knew only too well the damage it had caused. International Rescue had been called to the chemical plant Miles worked at almost a year ago, after an explosion had ripped through the complex and trapped the alarmingly few surviving workers in the burning rubble. Scott hid a wince. He had been airborne in Thunderbird One helping to put out the fire when a second explosion had gone off as the workers were being evacuated from the area by Virgil, Gordon and Alan. The shock wave had sent One spinning, and everyone on the ground flying. There wasn't a single one of them who didn't pick up an injury of some kind, Scott's brothers included.

Miles nodded solemnly, shuddering. "If those people at International Rescue hadn't got us out, I dread to think what would have happened to us. I just hope they all recovered as well as us guys did - one of them took a seriously nasty blow to the head."

That would be Gordon; hit on the temple, knocked out for near to seven hours and far from lucid for several more. "I'm sure they did." Scott reassured.

"You should have seen their equipment," Miles brightened and changed the subject, nudging Scott on the shoulder. "Their planes are just- wow. Especially that silver, blue and red jet - it's a beauty."

Scott hid a delighted grin. He'd have to remember to rub that in Virgil's face when he got back home. "I can imagine. What I would give to fly one of those things..."

"What are you up to nowadays anyway?" Miles leant against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest in a relaxed manner.

"I work for my dad," Scott said - that wasn't really a lie. "Developing new prototypes, fuels, things like that."

"Is that how you got that?" Miles nodded at Scott's left hand. More specifically, the burn that ran across the back of it. Huh. He hadn't noticed that one. Must have been from the earlier rescue.

"Oh- um- yeah. I was helping one of my brothers with some repairs and my hand slipped." Scott said, blurting out the first thing that came into his head.

"Your hand slipped?" One of Miles' eyebrows crept its way up his forehead. "Okay Scott, be honest, how much had you had to drink that day?"

Scott shot him a half-serious, half-amused glare. "You can talk - I remember a certain time at university when you almost took a leaf out of my youngest brother's book and blew up our flat because you were so drunk. I still don't get how you managed to get those things off campus anyway, even to this day!"

"I have my wa-"

"Tracy!"

Scott blinked and glanced over his shoulder, groaning inwardly as he saw who was advancing on him. You couldn't miss him - he was considerably smaller than Scott was, like most people admittedly, but was built like a tank with small beady eyes and closely shaven raven-coloured hair.

"Flynn." Scott said warily. Austin Flynn was a curious case - obviously smart enough to be accepted into Yale but was as lazy as they come when academic study was concerned. He only did the absolute bare minimum; nothing more. Much like Scott he excelled at sport - the two often found themselves competing against each other - and, as far as Scott was aware, had joined the army as soon as he found out he was facing being booted out of Yale due to his attitude and grades. He was a bully, only interested in something if he felt he had something to gain from it.

"I heard you left the Air Force," he sneered. "Finally discovered that you weren't up for the military? For the hard life?"

Silence fell amongst those in the immediate area as they overheard the jibe, rippling outwards until almost the entire hall had turned an ear to the exchange, some more subtle than others.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that?" Scott raised an eyebrow.

"Did you go running back to daddy?"

"If you really must know it was an honourable discharge." Scott's voice lowered dangerously. Drop the subject, his tone said. This was definitely a tender topic, had been ever since _it_ happened.

"Honourable discharge, yeah right," Austin chuckled. "I bet your dad-"

"Look, Flynn," Scott interrupted. "Don't go there. Just don't. I'm not here to argue with you."

"Why? Scared that I'll-"

"I was shot down, captured, tortured and forced to watch two of the men in my command die in front of me," Scott's voice may have been quiet but for all intent and purposes he may as well have shouted. Beside him, Miles flinched. "You may be a military man as well but you have no idea what the real meaning of 'scared' is."

Austin's mask slipped momentarily before it slid back into place; he opened his mouth to reply. A click on the other side of the hall, however, stopped him in his tracks. Scott stiffened, his eyes locking with Austin's. He knew that sound. And, by the look of it, so did Austin. It was a noise both were far too familiar with, one that promised chaos and fear during what followed. Miles shifted uncomfortably, not liking the look that entered their gazes one bit.

Scott and Austin spun round in the direction of the hall entrance, argument forgotten and making to shout in warning, just as the first echoes of gunfire rang out.

The sound of splintering beams on the ceiling was muffled by screams, as everyone hit the deck to avoid the flying bullets. Scott landed on his side with a grunt, and threw his arms over his head to shield them from the exploding glass of the drinks bar and window behind him. He shared a look with Austin and then Miles, and craned his neck towards the source of the intrusion.

One, two, three, four, five, six... ten men streamed into the hall, all with their guns pointed and firing sporadically towards the ceiling and walls. Scott narrowed his eyes. By the looks of it, these were not people who were neither comfortable nor familiar with holding weapons, which made them even more dangerous. All were dressed head-to-toe in black, walkie-talkies clipped to their belts.

"Quiet! Nobody move!"

Scott's head snapped towards the one who yelled, standing on the mini-stage in the opposite corner of the hall and firing one last bullet through the ceiling. His flame-coloured hair stood up as if he had been electrocuted, and his eyes had a crazed look in them; unlike the others, the gun in his hand was held with confidence. The screams ceased as one, everybody's attention directed towards him.

"Thank-you," he smiled in satisfaction. That voice. It was the same one Scott had heard over the inter-comm on his way in. "If you stay this obedient, we might actually get somewhere tonight."

"What do you want?" Austin spat. Scott grit his teeth. Seriously, had he not learnt anything in the army? Sometimes it was best just to lie low and not draw attention to yourself. Speaking up like Austin had would just make yourself a marked man.

Flame-Head honed in on him in a heart-beat and let out a chuckle. "What do we want? We want to spoil you, of course."

His next words made Scott go cold, freezing him in his tracks from where he was ever-so-slowly moving his hand down to his wrist-comm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you are in for a treat tonight. We have a member of International Rescue in our midst."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank-you so much everyone who reviewed after Chapter One; it really does give you a boost :)**

 **Here's Chapter Two - I'll aim to be updating this every four days or so, but that isn't necessarily guaranteed due to the fact that I've just started Year 13 at school, so it may take a bit to settle back in.**

 **Hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

Luckily for Scott, the same shock that was written across his face was reflected on everyone else's. How in the world did they know that? How could they _possibly_?

"That's right," the grin that Flame-Head wore was positively shark-like as his gaze swept over those in the hall. "We're here for International Rescue."

"Why?" Asked someone to Scott's right, who he vaguely remembered as having been in one of his classes.

" _Why_?" Flame-Head threw his head back and laughed, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. "The Thunderbirds are the greatest war machines the world has ever seen. They can out-drag, out-manoeuvre and out-gun anything in existence. Imagine the possibilities."

That wasn't strictly true, thought Scott. The out-drag bit was correct - even behemoth Thunderbird Two had a top speed greater than any purpose built military jet, and tiny Thunderbird Four was one of the fastest submarines ever - but out-manoeuvre and out-gun? Not so much. Whilst Thunderbird One was pretty nifty, they had found out the hard way with the USS Sentinel that Two could do with being a bit more manoeuvrable. And the only weapons they possessed were machine guns used solely as a last resort for defence purposes. Sure, Thunderbird Four was equipped with demolition missiles, but they were only of use when clearing debris underwater. Nothing more than that.

"So," Scott thought. "This guy isn't quite as knowledgable as he's making himself out to be. Guess I have to be grateful for that. And he hasn't called me out yet... Unless he's dragging it out for effect, maybe he doesn't actually know that I'm the person he's looking for?"

The idea of the Thunderbirds being used as weapons sent a shiver down Scott's spine. And it wasn't just One, Two, Three and Four - Thunderbird Five, in the wrong hands, could be turned into the most powerful spying device in existence.

"I'm giving the member of International Rescue one chance to reveal themselves willingly before things start to get _tasty_." Flame-Head said slowly and purposefully. "One chance."

"How do you even know one of them is here?" Austin growled from where he had slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. "And why not just reveal them yourself?"

God Scott wanted to punch him at that moment in time. And by the look of it, so did Flame-Head, who didn't reply with words but instead raised his gun and fired once. Austin ducked, the bullet burrowing harmlessly into the drinks bar he was leaning against. At a nod from Flame-Head, two of the others made their way round the edge of the hall to stand directly next to where Scott, Austin and Miles were sat.

"Great," Scott groaned inwardly. "There goes my chance to use my wrist-comm. They'd be on me in an instant if they saw me moving."

"Well, time's up, the chance has passed. What a shame. You will regret that. You should have just given yourself up - now, thanks to you, your colleagues and craft will be walking right into our clutches." Flame-Head said gleefully. He raised the radio on his belt to his mouth, and twisted one of the buttons on the top.

"Calling International Rescue," he said, forcing a note of fear into his voice. "Please, International Rescue, help us!"

* * *

The sun was just beginning to set on Tracy Island, the palm trees casting long shadows over the pool area. Virgil was sprawled out on one of the sun loungers, eyes fixed on the sky and a smile flickering across his face; the sky had taken on a deep orange hue - it would start fading into an inky blue soon - with streaks of white cloud dotting the horizon and the stars just beginning to twinkle. And it was peaceful. Quiet.

"You cheated!"

Or at least, it _had_ been peaceful and quiet. Virgil sighed in exasperation - don't you just love little brothers? The joys of living on an island; there was just no getting away from them.

Virgil raised his head, frowning as he took in the sight of Gordon and Alan. Gordon was dressed only in his swimming trunks - no surprises there then - but was sporting a rather fetching dollop of what looked like red paint on his forehead. Alan was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and was absolutely _covered_ in yellow paint, including one single splatter on the back of his head and one directly over his heart. He was glaring mutinously at Gordon.

"I did not cheat!" The aquanaut protested, throwing the towel that was draped over his shoulder so it landed squarely on Virgil's face and dived into the pool. Throwing the towel to the floor with a mildly irritated huff, Virgil peered at the water. Now he looked closely, he noticed there were small red and yellow coloured pellets floating around on the surface. Typical - they'd had another paintball war by the looks of things. Gordon surfaced and, with a flick of his hair, launched into a leisurely backstroke so he could talk while swimming. "Where in the book of paintball-ing rules does it say I _can't_ set a trap for you so you end up hanging upside down from a tree by your feet?"

Virgil let out a laugh at that mental image. Quite how Gordon had learnt to set traps like that, he wasn't sure. But at least it explained Alan's appearance - Gordon must have realised that should Alan be allowed to roam free, he would be almost impossible to hit. He had to be restrained. "How did he manage that one?"

"He forced me into the forest," Alan pouted, folding his arms across his chest. He actually pouted. "Because he knew _full well_ that I would be able to out-run him on a flat and even surface to get to the nearest cover. He just didn't want to lose."

"Not losing is kind of the point of the game Allie," Gordon grinned, splashing his sibling. "I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to win. You did get your revenge later on though."

A smug look descended on Alan's face. "Oh I certainly did."

"Care to enlighten me?" Virgil raised an eyebrow.

"Dear Gordon here seemed to momentarily forget that his shoulders are bigger than mine and can't fit through the same gaps I can." Alan flopped down onto the sun lounger next to Virgil. "He got ever so slightly tangled in the bushes."

Gordon grinned good-naturedly. "I had a momentary brain-block, I admit." Whilst Gordon was physically the leanest of the five brothers overall, even more so than Alan and John - and that was saying something - he had broad swimmer's shoulders that sometimes let him down when trying to fit through tight spaces. Mind you, he did tend to stay away from overly tight and enclosed spaces anyway - had done ever since his hydrofoil crash, so it didn't really matter that much.

Virgil snorted. "You have a lot of those 'brain-blocks', oh brother of mine. It explains a lot."

Gordon tilted his head to the side and stuck his tongue out at Virgil, but was stopped from answering properly by the sound of the klaxon going off. Virgil leapt to his feet and jogged quickly into the lounge with Alan and Gordon close behind him, the latter starting to towel himself dry as he moved. The trio skidded to a halt in the middle of the lounge, just as John's hologram flickered into life. The blonde was frowning, looking at something to his right, and that in itself was cause for concern. John was the calmest of all of them, unflappable and collected - it was what made him the perfect fit for the role of Space Monitor on Thunderbird Five.

"What's the problem John?" Virgil asked.

"I've just picked up a distress call from Connecticut." John began, tearing his cornflower-blue eyes away from whatever he had been focusing his attention on. "From Langley House."

"Where Scott is." Gordon and Alan said simultaneously, looking at each other in dismay. That would explain John's worry.

"According to the guy who called, the floor has collapsed and everyone there has been dropped twenty feet into the basement. They're all trapped, and there's a possibilities the internal walls could come down on top of them. There's no point trying to contact Scott-" John said hurriedly as Alan glanced down at his wrist-comm, making to try and contact his elder brother. "-I've already tried and got no answer."

"Should we call Dad to let him know?" Virgil looked out of the lounge over the sea. Their father was on the mainland attending an important business conference on behalf of Tracy Enterprises.

"I don't think there's any need at the moment," John assessed. "It's an important meeting so we ought not to disturb him, and besides it should be a fairly simple rescue. I'll contact him if the need arises, but it's unlikely."

"Nothing with Scott involved is ever simple." Gordon muttered, thinking back to the last time they hadn't received a response from their eldest brother whilst on a rescue - Virgil had found him buried under a pile of rubble with a collapsed lung.

"Right," the chestnut-haired pilot said decisively. "Brains is still making repairs to Thunderbird One after she picked up some minor damage this morning so, Alan, you'll be with Gordon and I in Two. We'll have to take it as it comes and assess the situation once we get there."

"How about I go and get a look at the building while you and Virg prepare the Pod?" Alan offered.

"Sounds good to me." Gordon nodded, grim determination written across his face.

"And guys," John butted in, a serious glint in his otherwise warm eyes. "If- if Scott does happen to be injured, he should be treated the same as any other casualties. As far as this rescue is concerned he is not our brother. You know Dad would say the same thing. As much as it pains me to say it, he shouldn't be given any special treatment."

"FAB." Virgil sighed. "Gordon? Alan? Let's go."

* * *

They heard Thunderbird Two a long, _long_ time before they saw it. What started as a faint rumble developed into an almost deafening roar, the huge transporter jet drawing looks of awe even from Flame-Head and his colleagues as it circled overhead in the dying light, the windows of the hall rattling with the vibrations. The lights had been turned off under orders from Flame-Head, to ensure that their silhouettes wouldn't be noticed.

Scott shifted uncomfortably, watching with unease. Half an hour had passed since the fake call had been given, giving him time to think things over. What had he done? He had been backed into a proverbial corner - he couldn't contact his brothers to warn them, as he would be pounced on in an instant by the two armed men standing directly behind him if they saw him using his wrist-comm; if they tried to get in contact with him they would get no reply, so as far as they were concerned it was a real distress call. They would be walking into a trap. The only thing Scott could do now was lie low and hope desperately that Virgil, Gordon and Alan were able to detect that something was up before it was too late. Should he have just given himself up when he had the chance? No. He would have just become a bargaining tool for Flame-Head.

As he watched, Thunderbird Two drifted out of sight of those in the hall. The VTOL jets could be heard firing, as Virgil lowered his craft gently to the ground somewhere to the east of the building.

Flame-Head's predatory smile had returned, having slipped slightly as he took in the sheer size of Two. He gestured for six of his colleagues to leave the hall. They jogged away, raising their guns to waist level as they went. Irritatingly enough for Scott, the two standing behind him stayed where they were. His wrist-comm vibrated again. The lack of a reply on Scott's behalf would be sending his father and brothers crazy - as far as they knew, he and everyone else in the hall had been dropped twenty feet down to the basement.

Gunfire.

Scott froze, eyes darting towards the windows. Guns were not typically part of the International Rescue uniform, which meant... Oh God. The hostage-takers had just fired at someone. Someone from International Rescue, completely unprepared and caught off guard. Scott felt sick - his little brothers were out there, defenceless. Several people around the hall made to get up - Scott, Miles and Austin included - only for the sound of gun latches being flicked reminding them that they were at the mercy of madmen.

A few moments later, two of the men returned, dragging something - some _one_ \- between them. Whispers and gasps spread like wildfire amongst the people in the hall. Craning his neck, Scott peered through the gloom in a desperate attempt to see what was going on. A figure had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor.

It was the blue uniform that made Scott's eyes narrow. But it was the red sash and mop of blonde hair that made his blood freeze.

They had Alan.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here it is - chapter three! Finished this earlier than I thought it would, so yeah... Thanks again for the lovely comments I've received, I really do appreciate it.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _A few minutes earlier -_

Virgil heard a click from over his left shoulder as Gordon undid his seatbelt and got to his feet, joining Alan in peering out of the window to the ground below them.

"What's it look like?" Virgil asked, glancing in their direction briefly before focusing on finding a landing spot large enough to accommodate Thunderbird Two.

"It's hard to say because it's so dark," Alan said slowly, blue eyes squinting. "There's hardly any light, but from what I _cam_ see the building looks fairly stable."

"Yeah, there's nothing to suggest there's anything wrong with it, or with the outer walls, at least. Should be fairly simple." Gordon said. "Any news on Scott?" He added hopefully.

"Nothing," John said grimly, his hologram bobbing up and down. "Still no answer."

Virgil swung Thunderbird Two round a bit too sharply in his concern, sending Gordon and Alan stumbling across the cockpit, narrowly avoiding slamming into the co-pilot's chair and various consoles.

"Hey Virg, watch it will you?" Alan shot the brunette a glare as he regained his balance. "You're not the only one here who's worried about Scott you know."

"Leave it." John warned. "Just remember that Scott is not the only one in there and stay focused on getting everyone out. Okay?"

Gordon gave John a jovial salute, but his amber eyes were serious. "Sir yes sir."

Virgil smiled apologetically at Gordon and Alan as John's hologram vanished and depressed a button to his right. The familiar rumblings of the landing jets reverberated throughout the cockpit as Thunderbird Two touched down gently on the ground, roughly two hundred metres from Langley House.

"Alan, go and scout the area," Virgil said, shutting down the engines and getting to his feet. "Gords and I will get the Mole ready for if it's needed and meet you outside."

"FAB." Alan set off at a brisk jog, turning left as he exited the cockpit and making his way through the maze of corridors on board, down to the small door-come-hatch at the side of the main body of Thunderbird Two. Virgil and Gordon turned right, towards the Pod.

"Scott'll be okay, Virgil," Gordon nudged his immediate elder brother with his shoulder. "You know what he's like."

Virgil smiled thinly. "It's not just Scott I'm worried about Squid - something just doesn't feel right about this whole thing. I'm probably wrong, but it just feels like something's up and-"

The pair both pulled up sharply as the unmistakable sound of gunfire cracked around Thunderbird Two. Virgil's chocolate brown eyes met Gordon's warm amber, matching expressions of shock written on both their faces.

"Please tell me I imagined that." The latter said.

"Unfortunately not. Alan," Virgil activated his wrist-comm. "Did you hear that?"

Nothing.

"Alan?"

Silence.

With that, Gordon and Virgil pin-wheeled on the spot and _sprinted_ back up in the direction of the cockpit. Virgil skidded to a halt in front of the cockpit door, dragging Gordon - who had made to continue down the path Alan had taken - in with him.

"What are you doing?" Gordon tore himself away from his brother's clutches. "We need to get out there now!"

"Do we?" Virgil shot back. "There is someone with a _gun_ out there and you want to charge out completely unprepared?"

"I do when there's a possibility our little brother is in danger!"

"And what help will we be? _Think_ about it Gordon. We have no clue what's going on out there - we'll be sitting ducks."

Gordon closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "Fine. What should we do?"

"Call John."

"I'm already here," the astronaut said from where his hologram had flickered on next to the pilot's chair. "Please tell me I just imagined hearing gunfire?"

"That's what I said," Gordon muttered grimly. "And you didn't imagine it."

"Can you give us Alan's position?" Virgil asked. Each International Rescue uniform was fitted with a GPS transmitter that allowed them to be traced by Thunderbird Five.

John paused. "North north-east, bearing of four point oh six degrees from where you are."

Virgil and Gordon looked out into the gloom. There was nobody around in the immediate vicinity that they could see with their eyes and - to their utter relief - no sign of blood.

"Wait, you mean Alan's in the right wing of the house?" Gordon exclaimed.

"The area that supposedly collapsed?" Virgil raised an eyebrow sceptically. Yep, this certainly wasn't adding up; armed men somewhere in the vicinity, one brother - actually, make that two - not responding to their calls and now a hall that, seemingly, is completely intact despite a rescue call claiming otherwise.

"The very one." John said.

Virgil took his seat in the pilot's chair and punched a few of the buttons on the console. One of the screen's flickered and flashed up a reading.

"Uh..." He said slowly. "Two's heat signature scanner is picking up four people surrounding us."

Gordon cursed from where he was positioned by the window craning his neck. "It's right. I can just about see two of them from here - they're almost directly below us in front of the take-off jets. That's why we couldn't see them at first. They're armed."

"Well isn't that brilliant." Virgil muttered.

"This is a hostage situation, isn't it?" John voiced their thoughts. "This whole 'collapsed floor' malarkey was a hoax."

"And they've got Alan and Scott." Gordon gritted his teeth. "John, is there any way you can access the hall's CCTV system to find out what's going on in there and what they want?"

"Already on it."

* * *

Scott was fidgeting. It took all of his self-control not to simply jump to his feet and go straight to Alan's side on the other side of the hall. He had to settle for glancing regularly at said brother who, mercifully, was unscathed save for a red mark on his forehead from where he had seemingly been hit with the butt of a gun. He had regained consciousness a few minutes after having been dragged inside, looking somewhat blearily around the hall as a couple of others tended to him. His gaze didn't linger on Scott any more than it did on anyone else, instead turning icy as it landed on Flame-Head. Scott fought to keep a fond smile off his face; he knew that look all too well - going by what John, Virgil and Gordon told him, it was exactly the same glare Scott himself wore when angry.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing, you're wasting your time." Alan growled.

Flame-Head shrugged nonchalantly. "Each to their own. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion."

A whirring sound from above them drew everyone's attention. The CCTV camera in the corner was rotating, scanning the room and focusing on Flame-Head. The tannoy system crackled into life a few seconds later, and John's voice echoed around the hall.

"Langley House, this is International Rescue. We are aware that the call you made was a hoax and that you have surrounded Thunderbird Two. Please state your intentions."

Scott hid a snort. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know where John had learnt to hack into computers the way he had, but he had to admit it did have its uses.

Flame-Head, to his credit, didn't jump at the sound of John's voice and looked directly up into the camera, a gleam entering his eyes. "Isn't it obvious?" He said, speaking loudly and clearly to ensure his voice would be picked up by the camera. "I want your machines. As you said, we have Thunderbird Two surrounded and two of your men in here as captives. Don't try and play innocent, we know that one of you was a guest at the party. Our offer is simple: your pilots reveal themselves and hand over the Thunderbirds, and we free everyone in here."

"And if we refuse?"

"Bang. Bang. Bang." Flame-Head said slowly and deliberately, emphasising each word. "Beginning with blondie over there," he gestured to Alan, who remained stoic and unflinching, not batting an eyelid. Scott's heart swelled with pride. "The same applies for if you even think about contacting the authorities. Is that clear?"

* * *

"Guys?"

John's voice jolted Virgil and Gordon out of their thoughts. Gordon stretched out his legs from where he had drawn them to his chest, leaning forward and eyeing the astronaut's hologram.

"What did you find out?" He asked somewhat warily.

"Well, the good news is that both Scott and Alan seem to be fine. Everyone is, for that matter. We were right, they're being held as hostages - the people are after the 'birds by the sound of it." John ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "The more complicating news is that they know that Scott is a member of International Rescue."

"What?" Virgil and Gordon exclaimed, the initial relief at knowing their siblings were okay being rapidly replaced with shock and unease.

"Wait, let me rephrase that," John said hurriedly. "They don't know that Scott _specifically_ is one of us, or at least I don't think they do, just that we have another member in there besides Alan."

"How is that possible?" Virgil said, mirroring the exact thoughts of their eldest brother from earlier.

"I don't know." John looked at something to his right. "I used Thunderbird Five's database and pictures from the CCTV camera to try and identity the lead guy - his name's Jai Lenbray. He was in the army for a bit and now works as the head groundsman at Langley House, but there's nothing indicating he should know about the presence of an International Rescue member at the party. There's absolutely no link between us and him."

"Should we tell Dad?" Gordon said tentatively.

"He's still at the conference," John turned the situation over in his head - while their father may have some advice about what they should do, this situation still wasn't going to be an easy one to diffuse. "I don't want to worry him, you know how long he was planning for this meeting for. But, we might have to."

The trio lapsed into silence. Virgil's thoughts drifted to the four men currently surrounding Thunderbird Two. If they could somehow get rid of them, maybe they could try and storm the hall to free everyone. It wouldn't be easy, but it was one of the very few options they had. Gordon got to his feet stiffly to Virgil's left, muttering something inaudible under his breath and marching out of the cockpit.

"John, how many more of these men are there in the hall?" Virgil asked, watching the aquanaut go.

"Six." John reported after a moments hesitation. "Two are right next to Scott next to the bar on the far side, three are by the entrance, and Lenbray is on the mini-stage."

"And where's Alan?"

"On the floor next to the wall adjacent to the stage."

"Next to a window?"

"Near enough. Why - what are you thinking of?"

Virgil massaged his temples. "This is going to sound ridiculous-"

"We might need ridiculous." John muttered.

"- but Brains installed a mini air-canon on board a few months ago," Virgil said slowly. "Gordon's got a brilliant aim... What- what if we buzz Alan's wrist-comm to alert him, and fire one of our guns through the window. He could grab it and use it to buy us some time?"

"I don't know," John said reluctantly. "We shouldn't put the other people in there in any more danger than necessary. Arming Alan might force Lenbray and his men into firing themselves."

"It might be a chance we'll have to take." said Gordon, striding back into the cockpit and dumping the items in his arms onto the spare chair. Virgil peered round. Scattered across the base of the seat were a few examples of two different types of guns, three earpieces and, curiously, a length of rope.

"You're thinking of storming the hall, right?" Gordon raised his head to glance at Virgil. When his brother nodded hesitantly after sharing a look with John, the aquanaut continued. "Yeah, me too. I don't like the idea, but we don't have much choice." He picked up one of the guns and turned it over in his hand before passing it over to Virgil. "This one is the type Brains modified to accommodate those new bullets."

Brains had been working on a type of tranquilliser bullet that acted within seconds. If someone was shot with them they suffered no adverse effects, but were knocked out for a few hours.

"Why the rope?" Virgil said curiously.

"If we manage to lead a few of them away from the hall, I could pull the same trick on them that I did on Alan this morning." Gordon smirked.

John tilted his head, looking at Virgil with a half-amused half-confused glimmer in his eyes. "Do I want to know what he means by that?"

Virgil shook his head. "You really don't," he chuckled, but sobered almost immediately after. "Is there anything electrical in the house that could use to delay Lenbray and his cronies?"

"Barely anything of use." John said regretfully. "I _could_ transmit a high-pitched frequency through the tannoy system to give them hell for a bit, but it would affect everyone- Scott and Alan included - and not just Lenbray and his colleagues."

"Maybe that would be a good thing," mused Gordon. "It would stop them doing anything stupid. But first, we have to get rid of the guys surrounding us."

"I have an idea," Virgil leant forward in his chair. "John, can you patch me through to the hall?"

John punched a few buttons on one of Thunderbird Five's consoles, and nodded wordlessly at Virgil.

"Lenbray, this is the pilot of Thunderbird Two," Virgil made sure to make his voice as cold as possible. "Order the men you have stationed around my plane to back off."

"Oh isn't this a pleasure," the voice that replied held a tint of surprise and unease that his surname had been shoved into the spotlight. "Ladies and gentlemen, the pilot of Thunderbird Two! What an honour. Should I do as he says? Let me think. How about... No."

"If you don't, Lenbray, your colleagues will be burnt to a crisp by my take-off jets. I have my finger over the trigger at this very moment."

"You wouldn't."

Ignoring the curious and, to a certain extent, concerned looks he was getting from John and Gordon, Virgil pulled one of the levers to his left. To their credit, the deeply ingrained trust that ran between them remained true, and they made no move to stop their brother. A deep, low pitched rumble echoed through the cockpit as the mighty engines of the giant behemoth started to whir into life.

"Okay, _okay_!" Lenbray virtually yelled. "Stop already!"

Gordon leapt to his feet and took up a position looking over Virgil's shoulder to the ground. "It's working!" He slapped his brother on the back. "They're going back to the hall... Wait, one of them is just running away into the forest. He must have decided enough was enough."

"Thank-you Mr Lenbray." Virgil grinned in satisfaction and signalled for John to cut the protection. "Now, Gordon, the plan is for you to fire a spare earpiece and gun through the hall's window for Alan to collect. Then we go in."

"I can use his wrist-comm's vibrations to warn him to expect it." John offered. Virgil exhaled sharply, the first bursts of adrenaline beginning to shoot through his body. Two of them, three if you included John, against ten armed men holding a room full of people, including their brothers, hostage. This certainly wouldn't be easy, but they would not give up. The Tracy blood coursing through their veins ensured that.

"Okay." He murmured. "Let's do this."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey everyone, apologies for this chapter being late but this last week as been a strange one. I spent last weekend getting slightly sidetracked watching the 24 Hours of Le Mans in its entirety; then I was swamped with schoolwork; then yesterday evening I received the news that my grandfather had passed away. He'd been through the wars, bless him, so maybe this was actually a blessing in disguise. And he's finally been reunited with Grandma, the love of his life.**

 **This one's for you Grandad. I love you.**

* * *

It wasn't that often Virgil - actually, scratch that, _anyone_ \- got to see this side of Gordon. Ever since he was a child, he had always made light of whatever situation he found himself in, cracking jokes and generally giving everyone a boost. This light-hearted streak had only widened after his hydrofoil crash. But now wasn't the time for that. Not when two brothers and near to forty people were being held hostage. This is where the other side of Gordon came to front. He was a military man, and knew exactly how and when to flip the 'serious switch'. Ninety-seven percent of the time he was a prankster through-and-through, but the other three percent of his personality was stubborn, ruthless and, dare Virgil say it, even dangerous? It made him think back to a comment his brother had made earlier by the pool - " _I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to win."_

He glanced over his shoulder and made to warn Gordon just to be careful. The younger Tracy had got to his feet, the rope slung across his shoulders, his earpiece fitted, gun in pocket and the spares in hand. Virgil stopped himself, his mouth half open. Gordon had trusted him earlier with what he'd said to Lenbray, so now it was Virgil's turn to trust him - Gordon knew the limits, and knew not to overstep them. There was a reason they would be using tranquillisers and not real bullets.

A few minutes later, the aquanaut hailed Virgil and John from down in the firing bay. "Okay, I'm in position. It's an awkward angle from here, but should be do-able."

"FAB. I'll warn Alan." John said. Before International Rescue had been properly started up, Jeff had made sure that each of them had learnt morse code, to communicate with each other should all other comms go down. Each wrist-comm would vibrate if someone tried to contact them, and it was using this that John tapped out his message to their youngest brother.

I-n-c-o-m-i-n-g t-h-r-o-u-g-h w-i-n-d-o-w.

"Fire!"

A hiss could be heard from the bowels of Thunderbird Two as Gordon launched the projectiles towards their target. Virgil held his breath. Gordon's aim had rarely let him down, they couldn't afford it to fail him this time. The sound of shattering glass was music to his ears.

"Good shooting Gordon!" Virgil grinned, unconsciously raising his hand in order to high five John. He only remembered at the last minute that his brother was, in fact, no more than a hologram.

"I'll pretend I didn't see that," John chuckled as he rolled his eyes. His amusement didn't last long though, the seriousness of the situation washing over him again. "Now, I'll brief Alan on the situation and you meet up with Gordon. We'll communicate by earpiece only now."

"FAB." Virgil exhaled and rose.

"And Virg?"

The use of his nickname halted him in his tracks. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"These are dangerous men - they could have shot Alan earlier but didn't. So be careful. Please." That wasn't the Space Monitor side of John talking. That was the brother side of John talking. His professional facade had slipped, something he allowed to happen only very rarely. His cerulean blue eyes met with Virgil's warm chocolate ones, almost pleading with his little brother. 'Little brother' - that wasn't such an accurate term anymore; Virgil was by far the most powerfully built member of the family and wasn't much smaller than him. But, in John's mind, he would _always_ be his little brother and would be till the end time.

"I'll be careful." Virgil said quietly. It was as close to a promise as he dared to make. John dipped his head solemnly and flashed Virgil a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before his hologram vanished.

Clutching his gun with one hand and fitting his earpiece with the other, Virgil departed the cockpit and followed the winding trail of corridors down to the firing bay. But it was empty.

"Gordon?" Virgil frowned. "Where are you?"

His earpiece crackled. "Ah, sorry Virgil," came his brother's reply. "I'm setting a little trap for our friends in the forest."

Virgil grit his teeth. Whilst the trap may prove to be useful, he didn't like the idea of Gordon being out alone in the forest when they didn't know if they were any more of the hostage-takers out there.

"And before you say anything, I-"

"Guys, we may have a bit of a problem." The sound of John's worried voice cut off Gordon. "Lenbray has taken out the CCTV camera with his gun - I no longer have visual inside the hall."

That would definitely complicate things. Now John had only the audio feed from Alan's earpiece to give him an idea of what was going on in that hall. They had no sure way of keeping track of how many of Lenbray's men were staying put and how many were being sent out to patrol the area.

"Copy that John, we'll just have to be even more vigilant. Gordon, you done setting that trap?"

"Almost," was the answer. "I'll meet you outside the west wing of the house."

"FAB," Virgil backed out of the firing bay and broke into a jog. "John, when I'm clear of Thunderbird Two can you seal the doors remotely? If anyone tries to get in..." He left his sentence to trail off.

"Will do."

* * *

"You took your time." Virgil said dryly, mindful to keep his voice down as he turned away from the window of the house's west wing that he was trying to pry open. He'd managed to open it a few inches, but it had then jammed.

Gordon skidded to a halt, sending a shower of grit and stones spraying in an arc over Virgil. "You can't rush perfection. I wanted to make sure it was robust and strong enough."

"Help me with this, will you?" Virgil gestured to the window and flicked a tiny stone from a fold in his uniform. "It's stuck."

Gordon arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Are you telling me that _you_ , Virgil Tracy, have been stumped by one measly little window?"

Virgil didn't reply, merely fixing him with _the look_ and raising an eyebrow of his own. After a few moments futilely trying to withstand his brother's glare, Gordon raised his hands in surrender. If Virgil of all people couldn't force the window open, he didn't have a hope in hell. On his own, that is. Gripping one end of the window each, muscles straining, the pair heaved at the window until it gave with a resounding _bang_. Virgil flinched. Gordon, on the other hand, didn't even bat an eyelid and set about hauling himself through the window frame, landing with barely a thud on the other side. Virgil sighed, clambering through after his brother.

The room they were in was of a modest size, with off-white walls and dust sheets covering the few remaining pieces of furniture. The door on the far wall swung open with a slight creak as Virgil pushed it. He peered his head round. A long corridor stretched before them with more doors dotted along the walls, and a second, adjacent corridor at the other end. He gestured for Gordon to follow, withdrawing his gun from his pocket and clutching it in his right hand. They slowed as they approached the end of the corridor.

"John, left or right?" Gordon questioned in hushed tones. They had to keep talking on their end to a minimum, seeing as they didn't know who might be waiting around the corner for them.

"Left," John stated. "Follow the corridor round and then go through the first door to your right. That'll bring you to the main entrance. The door immediately opposite you opens up into the hall. Alert me when you're approaching the main entrance; I'll warn Scott and Alan of what to expect."

"FAB." Virgil and Gordon said in unison. Sharing a grimly determined look, the pair set off, stopping before every corner to check what was on the other side. They arrived without incident at the main entrance. Virgil came to a halt on the right hand side of the door, Gordon on the left.

"We're in position." Virgil murmured.

"FAB," John subconsciously lowered his voice as well, even though his siblings were the only ones who would be able to hear him. "I've notified Scott and Alan, so they'll be prepared. Your earpieces will shield you somewhat from the noise, but be aware it'll still be very loud. You have five seconds before it goes off - good luck guys."

"We'll need it." Gordon uttered under his breath, moving so he was positioned directly in front of the door. Virgil tightened his grip on his gun as he counted down in his head. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Gordon rammed his shoulder into the door and flung it open, just as an ear-splitting high-pitched screech resonated from the tannoy system. Even with their earpieces muffling it slightly, to Virgil and Gordon it was still well into the 'distressing' threshold.

Virgil only gave himself a millisecond to take in the scene in front of him - of almost everyone cowering on the floor with their hands firmly clamped over their ears and teeth gritted in pain - before he raised his gun. Beside him, Gordon was already firing. That paintball practice was paying off for him, Virgil thought, as the four bullets he fired all found their targets. A flash of blue fabric and blonde hair out of the corner of his eye alerted Virgil to Alan's presence as the youngest Tracy fired a few shots of his own. Virgil aimed at two of the hostage-takers positioned at the very back of the hall, who had shut their eyes and had their weapons pointing at the ceiling as they covered their ears. Virgil pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. The men crumpled unceremoniously to the ground.

"Two and Four, _duck_!"

Virgil found himself moving even before he had fully registered what Alan had shouted, using the nickname he went by during rescues. He threw himself to the floor, leaving the real bullet that had been on a collision course with his chest to burrow into the wall behind him. Gordon also hit the deck with a thud, avoiding a second volley of randomly aimed bullets.

Virgil scrambled back to his feet, just as the sound of breaking glass reached his ears. One of the hall's large windows shattered into tiny fragments as another couple of the hostage-takers - one with a mop of shocking red hair - threw themselves at it. They landed on the grass outside and legged it into the darkness, despite Alan's best efforts at bringing them down.

Virgil surveyed the rest of the hall; the remaining hostage-takers were unconscious on the floor with their guns having been kicked out of range by whoever was nearest. "John, you can cut it off." He had to raise his voice considerably to make his voice audible.

"FAB." The screeching sound ceased almost immediately, to collective sighs of relief from everyone as they slowly and somewhat cautiously picked themselves up from the floor. One person in particular towered above everyone else - Scott. His brother muttered something to the two people standing next to him before meeting Virgil's gaze fleetingly. It may have been brief, but the look in Scott's eyes was enough to reassure Virgil that he was okay.

"Anyone injured?" Alan asked, raising his voice above the general murmurings that were gradually growing louder and more frenzied as the reality of what had just happened hit home.

"Over here." Someone to Virgil's left called out; a man was leaning against the wall with his left hand clutching his blood-stained upper right bicep. Alan jogged over to inspect the wound, gratefully accepting the tie that someone offered to use as a tourniquet.

"You guys had better see if you can track down Lenbray and the other one - I can take it from here." He said, glancing over his shoulder at Gordon and Virgil. So Lenbray was one of the escapees. Virgil pursed his lips - he was, more likely than not, the mastermind behind this whole saga. He couldn't be left to roam free.

"If you wanted some help I'll be more than happy to offer my services. The name's Austin."

Virgil, Gordon and Alan all looked in the direction of the voice. It was one of the men Scott had been talking to, a well-built man with black hair.

"And me too. I'm Scott." Scott himself said quickly, stepping forward to stand alongside the man, introducing himself in order to keep up pretences.

Virgil met Scott's eyes, an unspoken question passing between the two. Scott inclined his head slightly, a confirmation that they could trust this guy.

"Okay," Virgil decided. "We go in pairs. Scott can come with me, and Austin can go with my colleague."

"Agreed." Gordon confirmed. Scott didn't trust people lightly, so if he was confident in this guy, then there was no reason for Gordon not to as well. And besides, he looked as if he meant business.

Scott and Austin both scooped up two of the guns lying discarded on the floor and followed Virgil and Gordon in carefully clambering through the broken window, stepping over the unconscious forms of some of the hostage-takers. They wouldn't wake up for a good few hours, and by then the authorities would have well and truly arrived.

At a gesture from Gordon, the two sets of pairs split and headed off in two different directions. Gordon and Austin moved off in the direction of the area the former had set his trap earlier; Scott and Virgil fell into step alongside each other as they entered the woodland behind Thunderbird Two. This was more like it, Virgil thought, having his eldest brother by his side. They may be polar opposites in terms of personality - one calm and steady, the other impulsive and hotheaded - but they made one hell of a team.

Eyes squinting in the darkness, Virgil searched through the trees surrounding him. Every sense was on hyper-alert, ready to pick up the slightest movement or sound from the shadows.

He swung round in an instant at the sound of a twig snapping behind him, Scott doing the same beside him. The red-headed man, who must be Lenbray judging by Scott's facial reaction, was standing in front of them with a demonic grin on his face and his gun pointing directly at Virgil's chest. Virgil made to raise his own gun, just as Lenbray fired.

And just as Scott threw himself between them.

The crack echoed through the still night air.

Scott collapsed in a heap on the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Just a heads up, the next chapter, which will explain how the hostage-situation was resolved, will be slightly delayed - by now much I'm not sure. I'm away over the weekend and then have a weeks work experience at a magazine.I'll be able to get some writing done in the evenings but not as much as I would like.**

 **Thank-you all so much for your lovely reviews in response to the last few chapters- I hope you like this one too!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

This was an peculiar feeling, Scott reflected. Almost every inch of him was absolutely freezing cold, like his skin was made of ice. _Almost_ every inch. His right side felt like someone was prodding him very hard with a red-hot poker. Actually, scratch that, a _white_ -hot poker. 'Red-hot' didn't do it justice. And it was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Coming from a Tracy, who that really was saying something.

He should be worried. Not just by the whole poker thing, but also by the fact that he couldn't remember for the life of him what he'd done to end up in this situation.

Scott stared up into the midnight blue sky from his position on the floor, trying - and failing monumentally - at getting the world to stop swirling around him. He could just about see tiny shapes whizzing backwards and forwards over his head accompanied by distant bangs, flying out of view and moving far, far too quickly for him to be able to focus on them. Bangs and flying projectiles. Was that good? Probably not. And that solid thud, coming from his left. That, more likely than not, wasn't good either.

A person appeared in Scott's field of vision, crouching down next to him. Their lips were moving rapidly and Scott could hear that they were talking, but he couldn't distinguish any individual words. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus his eyes, he slowly tilted his head his head to get a better look at the person. His gaze was first drawn to the dark red stain on their upper left arm, which they were keeping tucked close to their body, and then to their face.

Blue uniform. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Scott would never fail to identify those eyes, even as confused as he was at this point in time. The person looking down at him was Virgil. The first inklings of concern began to stir in Scott; his brother was usually unflappable, the perfect tonic for his own temper. So for him to look... _Panicked_... Something had to be very wrong. His usually steady hands had a slight shake to them, and his typically tanned face had paled.

Scott screwed up his face in a grimace, shutting his eyes. His friend with the poker had seemingly invited all his mates to join in the fun as well. Stab him with the pokers why don't you? It's so much fun, isn't it? The pain in his side - because it _really_ was pain now - was spreading, radiating outwards in spikes until his entire body was seemingly consumed in fire. Scott grit his teeth, back arching, with his vision fading until he was only a single pinprick of sky was left visible. His breathing became fast and shallow, and Virgil's agitated murmurings faded into silence against the sound of his racing heart.

When the darkness came, Scott tried to fight it. Because something or someone was bothering his brother and _hey_ , nobody did that and got away with it. But the shadows obviously had other ideas. They latched onto him with an iron grip, dragging him down into their murky depths.

And then, as quickly as it started, the pain stopped. Scott exhaled sharply as though someone had punched him in the gut. Now he just felt... Empty. No pokers. No fire. Nothing. He just felt numb.

Prying his eyes open, Scott was greeted with the sight of a thick grey fog. Gone was the night sky and forest. He frowned and gingerly pulled himself into a sitting position. He craned his neck to look around him, but he was completely surrounded.

"Where the hell am I?" Reaching one arm out towards the fog, Scott withdrew it almost immediately with a hiss as pins and needles shot up it. "Okay... This is now officially weird."

He glanced down at the ground. It was solid, that much was certain, but in terms of aesthetics it was like he was sitting on a beach with thick sea-mist rapidly rolling in. The fog lapped at his legs, sending buzzes of pins and needles through him whenever he came into contact with it.

Something on his suit caught Scott's eye. More specifically, on his right side. Right where his mates with the pokers had been having their fun. The dark fabric had a deep red tint to it. Pressing one hand against the stain, Scott's breath hitched when it came away drenched in blood. What in the name o-

-now he remembered. The reunion. The hostage-takers. Lenbray. Scott had been shot by him. Because he had jumped in front of-

Oh jeez, _Virgil_! Scott froze as memories began to trickle back. Virgil had been injured as well. He had been bleeding. Scott scrambled to his feet - his own wound forgotten - and lurched forward in a random direction as he tried to find a way out of this... This... Whatever it was. He needed to get to Virgil.

The further he went, though, the more the fog seemed to thicken and darken in colour. And, worryingly, the more drowsy Scott began to feel. He could feel his eyelids drooping and his steps becoming heavier. He clenched his jaw, pressing a hand against his side; the numbness was starting to fade, and was instead being replaced by a distant yet painful throbbing.

His surroundings tilted alarmingly around him and the next thing he knew he was lying on the ground again. His attempt to push himself back up resulted only in another flop as his limbs gave out from under him. He rolled over onto his back, staring straight up, and let the fog wash over him. He took a few shuddering breaths. His eyelids flickered shut.

* * *

Scott let out a low groan as consciousness slowly filtered back into his mind. He really shouldn't be making a habit of this, he thought, lying on his back with absolutely no clue where he was. Wherever he was now was a lot more comfortable than the forest floor and the weird dreamland, even with that repetitious beeping in the background. Mind you, the ache in his side was still making its presence known.

After several attempts, Scott managed to force his eyes open and gazed somewhat blearily at the scene around him. He was in the infirmary of Tracy Island; an IV stand and vitals monitor was positioned next to the bed he was in, a bandage could be seen poking out from underneath his shirt, and-

Oh. Jeez he must be dosed up on whatever the IV stand was pumping into him - he had failed to notice the hand holding his own. The hand that was attached to a very-much-asleep younger brother curled up in the chair next to him. Sheer relief flooded through Scott. Virgil's left arm was bandaged, held in a sling and nestled against his chest, and dark circles hung under his eyes, but apart from that Scott's sibling seemed perfectly fine.

Scott couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the sight of the Tracy family's very own powerhouse tucked up in a chair that should, theoretically, be far too small for him. The chuckle almost immediately turned into another groan. Scott tensed as his side struck up a protest against the sudden movement.

Virgil stirred in his chair at the feeling of his hand being squeezed. Chocolate brown eyes opened and widened.

"Scott!"

"'M okay." Scott muttered weakly through gritted teeth. Virgil unfolded his legs and leapt to his feet, fiddling with something next to the IV line with his good arm. Within a few seconds the feeling dimmed as a painkiller was pumped around Scott's system. He sagged against the pillows and sighed.

"You're an idiot," Virgil collapsed back in the chair and leant forward, brushing Scott's hair back and resting the back of his good hand briefly on his forehead. There was no bite to his voice, only fondness and relief. "Never do that to me again."

Scott didn't reply straight away and instead fixed purposeful stare on Virgil's arm. Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Nuh-huh. You answer a question of mine first. How are you feeling? _Honestly_."

"I'm fin-"

"Don't," Virgil interrupted wearily. "Don't say you're fine. Because I know you're not. There is no way you can be fine. You were shot, and- dammit Scott I had to breathe for you at one point. You stopped breathing. Then the wound became infected, and..."

Scott's gaze flickered back up to the ceiling, not quite daring to look directly at his brother. "Sorry." He said softly, stifling a yawn.

Virgil's shoulders slumped. "What am I doing? I should be apologising to you. You saved my life, Scott. And here I am biting your head off just as soon as you've woken up. It's been five days, d'you know that?" He reached forward with his good arm and picked up Scott's left hand again. "Get some rest. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Scott was already drifting off before Virgil had even finished speaking, secure in the reassurance of his sibling's promise. If there was one thing the Tracys did well, it was being there for each other in their times of need.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello everyone! Really sorry for the seriously late update - real life decided to rear its ugly head! But I've only got a few days of school left before the summer holidays, so the final chapter ought to be up _fairly_ quickly.  
Enjoy!**

* * *

An Alan-shaped hot water bottle. That was a new one. An affectionate smile spread across Scott's face as he took in the sight of the youngest Tracy. Alan had fallen asleep in a chair he had pulled alongside Virgil's, with his hand lying palm down over Scott's heart. His upper body rested on the mattress and he had his head tucked against his eldest brother's good side. Virgil, too, was asleep, having remained true to his word and stayed in his seat, Scott's hand still encased in his own. The strength of bond between the Tracy brothers was second to none - a force of nature in its own right. Scott was the born leader and quick thinker; John was knowing and patient; Virgil, calm and steady; Gordon, sharp and light-hearted; Alan, lively and earnest. They all balanced each other out perfectly, and that was what made them such a solid team. Never cross a Tracy - mess with one and you mess with them all, and that included-

"Hello son."

-their father. Scott started at the sound of Jeff's voice, lips tightening as his side twinged painfully. Jeff took a step forward into Scott's peripheral vision, a sympathetic smile on his face as he eyed his first-born. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Scott muttered curtly, keeping his voice down and shifting slightly to get more comfortable. Alan mumbled something incoherent in his sleep, but did not awaken. "What happened to Virgil's arm?"

"Scott," Jeff pulled up a third chair next to the bed. "I'll save you the lecture - I suspect Virgil's already given you one. But you're going to have to work with us if you want to recover as quickly as possible."

"What happened to Virgil's arm?" Scott repeated slowly, ignoring the comment and meeting his father's gaze coolly. Well, as coolly as he could considering the amount of painkillers in his system.

Jeff sighed. He knew that look only too well. Scott had inherited it from him, after all. "Lenbray confessed to trying to shoot him again. I don't know the specifics - Virgil has barely said a word about what happened. You know, son, your brother has hardly left you since you came home. He didn't get any sleep for nearly three days."

"He's too stubborn for his own good." Scott murmured, realising sheepishly a split-second later that his logic could just as easily be applied to himself. "Did Lenbray confess anything else?"

"Scott, you're too weak to be having this conv-"

"Father." Anger simmered in the depths of Scott's blue eyes. He recalled the sight of the cocky grin Lenbray had worn as he'd pulled the trigger - there had been no second thoughts whatsoever.

"Very well," Jeff sighed again, this one resigned. "We haven't done a full debrief yet, so we might as well do one now. But after that, promise me you'll get some proper rest."

"I will." Scott nodded, satisfied. He ruffled Alan's hair gently, careful not to budge the IV line attached to the back of his palm. "Hey Allie. Wake up buddy."

Alan snuffled, hand curling into a fist. A few seconds later, he was blinking up at Scott with a relieved grin spreading across his face. "Scott?"

"The one and only."

Alan sat up in his seat and rubbed his eyes, cheeks tinged red slightly at having been found asleep in such a position. Jeff couldn't help but chuckle at his son's embarrassment as Scott moved on, somewhat guiltily, to Virgil. The artist took a fair bit more coaxing than Alan had, that much could be expected, but eventually he too was awake.

"Before you even say a word," he mumbled, looking at Scott pointedly as his eldest brother moved to open his mouth. "My arm is fine. Superficial damage."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "It was definitely more than superficial, I'd say."

"It's nothing compared to what happened to Scott."

"You were still shot Virg!"

"I-"

"Boys." Jeff cut Virgil off, voice raised ever so slightly. "Now isn't the time. We need to go over what happened properly, so you save any disagreements for afterwards. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Yes sir."

"Good," Jeff nodded in approval, pressing one button on the side of his watch and one on the side of Scott's bed. John's hologram flickered into life from the foot of the bed.

"Hey Scott, glad to see you're finally awake," the astronaut smiled in his direction. "You had us worried for a while. What can I do for you guys?"

"I want to do a proper debrief," Jeff leant forward in his chair. "Go over what happened at Langley House. Gordon and Alan have filled in some of the blanks, but there are still some left."

"Where is Gordon anyway?" John frowned. "I keep on trying to call him but never get a reply."

"I'm right here."

All heads turned in the direction of the aquanaut's voice. The red-head was standing in the infirmary's doorway, towelling his still-damp hair and breathing slightly on the heavy side. A slight smile tugged at Scott's lips. No prizes for guessing where he had been - it was a wonder he hadn't grown tentacles or gills from the amount of time he spent in the water, pounding in the laps relentlessly.

Scott couldn't help but notice the reproachful look Gordon sent their father as he pulled up a fourth chair beside his bed.

"Right then," the Tracy patriarch said. Whether he had noticed Gordon's glare or was simply choosing to ignore it was seemingly up for debate. "Let's start from the very beginning."

The conversation started from there. Scott added bits in occasionally, but only gave it his full attention when it came to the point where he, Virgil, Gordon and Austin had left.

It was Virgil who was speaking. "Scott and I were heading east through the forest, past Thunderbird Two. Lenbray must have been waiting for us, because we didn't hear or see anything up until the point he stepped out behind us. I guess he wanted to make a show of things, the bastard - he could have just stayed hidden and made it easier for himself." Virgil had his good hand clenched into a fist, dark eyes smouldering, not taking notice of Jeff's reminder to watch his language. "He shot at me, but this idiot-" he gestured at Scott, only weariness in his voice and no real bite. "-decided to jump in front of me."

"Just doing my job." Scott mumbled, not quite looking Virgil in the eye.

"And nothing I say will make you think otherwise." Virgil sighed, resigned. "I was torn. I knew I was an easy target and needed to get to cover, but- I- Scott, you were so vulnerable..."

"So what did you do?" Jeff prompted gently.

"I fired at Lenbray a few times to force him backwards and ducked behind a tree. He must have thought you were done for, Scott, because he didn't bother firing at you again." Virgil virtually spat the last bit out. Scott shifted uncomfortably. It was strange beyond words to see his usually calm sibling so worked up. "He focused on me instead. One of his bullets clipped the trunk of the tree and then hit me in the arm, but I eventually managed to take him down."

"Austin and I heard the sound of gunfire and legged it in their direction." Gordon looked ruefully at Jeff. "You know what happened when I found them."

Scott frowned questioningly. It was Alan who answered him. "Let's just say that Lenbray woke up with a _lot_ of bruises. And a cracked rib."

Ah. That would explain the disapproving shadow in Jeff's eyes, and the look Gordon had given him upon entering the infirmary. On the one hand, Gordon would have wanted Lenbray to pay for what he had done to Scott and Virgil, but at the same time Jeff certainly would have condoned the use of violence.

"The paramedics and police arrived ten minutes later," John spoke up. "They took Lenbray and the others to the police station, while Scott and Virgil were taken to hospital. They questioned Lenbray almost as soon as the sedative had worn off."

"Go on." Jeff unfolded his arms.

John took a deep breath. "Lenbray was the head groundsman at Langley House. When the owner - Kevin Safford - was convicted of blackmail and fraud, his wife sold the house. Lenbray was tasked with helping to remove the majority of the furniture. In one of the rooms, he found some pieces of paper hidden under a loose floorboard - they were a transcript of a phone conversation between two anonymous people." John glanced at Jeff. "Those people were Father and Lady Penelope, but Lenbray had no way of knowing that. In it, Father talked about International Rescue and one of us attending a Yale party. When he later found out that Langley House was becoming the venue for a reunion party, he put two and two together and hatched a plan. He said he was fed up with his job, and thought exposing International Rescue was the best way of going up in the world."

"Where did the transcript come from?" Virgil asked.

It was not John who replied, but Jeff, a grim expression on his face. "I think I can guess. Kevin Safford was one of my closest friends and an experienced officer at NASA. His brother Joel was one of Tracy Industries' best engineers. He was killed in a car crash on his way to collecting some new parts for the company. Kevin completely turned on me and blamed me for Joel's death. We found out a few months later that he had bugged all of my offices in an attempt to gain material to blackmail me with. It seems he wasn't as good a man as I thought he was - Penny did a bit of rummaging after I became suspicious and found that he had a history of both blackmail and fraud. The transcript must have come from him."

"So he knew we're International Rescue?" Alan exclaimed.

"He did. But he is locked up in jail and has no solid proof anyway." Jeff reassured. "And it was just pure luck that Lenbray stumbled upon the notes."

"It still happened though, didn't it." Gordon folded his arms.

"There's nothing we can do to change it now." Scott rested his head against the pillow, exhaling slowly. "Lenbray will be jailed as well, so he won't get the chance to try anything else."

"It's where he belongs." Jeff said solemnly. "While we're all here, I just want to say that I am very proud of you all. _All_ of you. This was a very tricky situation, one of the trickiest we have ever faced, but you all took it in your stride and dealt with it efficiently and professionally. And you did not just me, but International Rescue proud as well. If your mother was here, I'm sure she would say the same thing. "

There was a moment of fond silence. Only for it to be broken, not surprisingly, by Gordon, who had an impish grin on his face.

"Is Dad getting sentimental? Hallelujah! Quick, someone, make a note of the date and time! And take a picture!" 


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, this is it - the last chapter! Thank-you so much to everyone who has favourited/followed/reviewed this story - Phoenix Sparrow, Nikki, Sunny7777, vickir, CBloom2, KVD, Scribbles97, Fishton, cathrl, Teobi, AbiSnow1998, Madilayn, Scotius, BasiaM82, princ3ssf33t and everyone. I really hoped you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it.**

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Scott gazed wistfully at Thunderbird One, letting out a forlorn sigh from where he sat on the edge of the balcony overlooking the solo, legs swinging in the void. Each of the brothers was protective over their respective machines, convinced that theirs was the best. For Scott, it was a no brainer. Thunderbird One was sleek, smooth, graceful and, above all, fast. REALLY fast.

His fingers twitched involuntarily, itching to clasp the controls. Ten days had now passed since the Langley Hall saga, and whilst Scott had been given reluctant permission to leave the infirmary, he was still grounded and confined to the boundaries of the villa and pool, and would be for a while yet. He was a man of action - always had been, always will be. He _hated_ being still, relatively or completely, for even the smallest amount of time. Being cooped up like a pigeon was his idea of hell.

"Started to go crazy yet?"

The sound of a baritone voice and boots clanging on metal alerted him to an approaching Virgil. Said brother swung himself down so he was perched next to Scott, his uniform ruffled and a sympathetic smile etched across his face as he noticed how the elder Tracy's gaze was fixed firmly on Thunderbird One.

"If you ask Gordon or Alan I went crazy a long time ago." Scott muttered, chucking. "How did it go?"

Much to Virgil's delight, he had finally been allowed back out on rescues, but only on the condition that he didn't over exert himself. The sooner he could get Thunderbird Two out of their resident squid's clutches the better. Virgil shrugged in response to Scott's question, relishing at the lack of twinge in his shoulder. "Relatively simple. No major problems."

"From what I gather, the last time you guys said a rescue was 'relatively simple' was when this happened." Scott flicked a hand lazily and gestured to his side.

"Gordon did say that nothing with you involved is ever simple," Virgil was only half-joking. Amusement glimmered in his eyes for a few seconds, but faded as he took to looking at the floor of the silo below. "Speaking of which, Scott..." He trailed off. Scott raised an eyebrow in encouragement. Virgil took a deep breath. "I haven't had the chance - or I haven't _taken_ the chance, I guess - to say thank-you. For what you did." He still avoided Scott's gaze, deciding that Thunderbird One was a lot more interesting to look at, at that moment in time. "Chances are, you saved my life, but-" He broke off.

Scott scooted closer to his sibling and nudged him, craning his neck to peer at Virgil's face. "Seeing me like that was hard to take?" He offered. Virgil nodded minutely. "No-one should have to see their brother like that Virg, but, frankly, I'd do it again in a heartbeat if I had to. Like I said, it's my job. And I know you would too."

Virgil gave a small smile, this nod a lot more certain than the last. "In a heartbeat." He echoed.

"I have one question." Scott said warily. Virgil tilted his head. "What happened between Lenbray and Gordon?"

Virgil snorted, his smile turning into a grimace. "Gordon beat the crap out of him. Literally. Your mate Austin had to pull him off to stop him. I'd knocked Lenbray out by that point, so Gordon could have done some real damage to him."

Scott winced at the use of 'mate', and his eyes narrowed. Virgil hurriedly continued before Scott could start. "I'm not condoning what he did but just think about it for a moment, Scott. Dad's already given him an earful and I don't think he needs another from you. Gordon had no idea what had happened, all he could hear was gunshots. He _panicked_. The first thing he saw when he came across us was me trying to keep your damn heart beating."

"It was that close then, huh?" murmured Scott.

"Yeah. If I were you, I'd go and talk to Gordon. Don't have a go at him," Virgil added warningly. "Just talk. And listen."

Scott raised an eyebrow. He knew he wasn't the best at talking _or_ listening - those jobs were best suited to John and Virgil - but he could still try his best. He nodded, more to himself than his sibling. He gripped the railing and slowly pulled himself to his feet, Virgil doing the same beside him.

Scott ruffled his brother's hair, a genuine smile lighting up his face. Virgil ducked his head, smoothing his hair down and giving Scott a look of mock indignation. He gently shoved Scott in the direction of the corridor that would take him back up to the villa. Scott rolled his eyes and obliged. The first place he headed for was the pool. And sure enough, there was Gordon, ploughing through the water.

Scott leant against the villa wall. "And here we have a Gordon, in its natural habitat." He thought with a smirk. He coughed purposefully and stepped forward so his shadow fell over the pool.

Gordon slowed to a halt almost immediately, flipping over to float leisurely on his back. He gave a jaunty wave. "Hey Scott."

"You got a minute?"

"Sure." Gordon pulled himself gracefully out of the pool, shaking himself slightly and perching on the end of the sun lounger Scott had sat on. "What can I do for you?"

"Virgil told me what you did to Lenbray." Scott winced inwardly. He could have been a bit more tactful with his wording, that was a given. Gordon's gaze darkened, the twinkle in it fading. Yep, way to go Scott.

"What about it?" The aquanaut said frostily.

"I'm not going to bite your head off Gords - if I'm really honest I think you gave him what he deserved."

Gordon blinked, the iciness in his expression receding. "Come again?"

"I'm not angry at you."

"I- wait- who are you, and what have you done with Scott Tracy?" Gordon leant forward and tapped him on the side of the head with a closed fist. His face was inches from Scott's as he squinted at him, as though trying to spot his 'real' eldest brother.

Scott batted him away gently. "I'm serious Gordon. I'm not pulling the 'disapproval' card on you this time."

Gordon flopped backwards. "Huh. That's a new one."

"Make the most of it." Scott paused. "You know I can see right through you by the way."

It was true. If there was one thing that gave Gordon away _every single time_ , it was his eyes. It's a well known saying that the eyes are the gateway to the soul, and that couldn't be more true for Gordon. Beneath the light-hearted charade that he was currently putting on, there was something else. Gordon was seeking approval for his actions, and believed Scott was the one to give it to him.

"I'm proud of you." There. He had said it. "You and Virgil managed to keep your heads - I don't care about what happened with Lenbray. I would have done the same thing had our roles been reversed. The most important thing is that you got everyone out alive."

Gordon didn't say anything immediately; he just sat there with his head bowed . But, true to his nature, he didn't stay still for long. He launched himself at Scott and wrapped his arms around his neck, burying his head against Scott's shoulder.

"Urgh, damp squid hug." Scott muttered. But he made no move to disengage himself. He smiled and rubbed Gordon's back gently. Yes, what Gordon had done was technically wrong, but Scott had been telling the truth when he had said he would have done the same. No-one got between him and his family. There was just one thing.

He needed to remember not to go to any school reunions any time in the future. That was out of the question.


End file.
